


Wrung

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Dom Hux, sub Kylo [15]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: There must be a limit to how aroused he can be, and for how long. Surely? It can’t go on forever...





	

There must be a limit to how aroused he can be, and for how long. Surely? It can’t go on forever, although Kylo keeps that worry as deep down inside as he can. 

Hux likes _challenges_. So does Kylo, but he doesn’t want to lose his prick over pride…

It’s early evening when Hux barks at him to undress. He stands and watches as Kylo does so, his fingers forced to not-tremble as he peels back layer after layer. A second skin all day, it’s an affront in here. He no longer feels comfortable in those clothes when Hux is around, and he bares himself by degrees for his pleasure and appreciation.

Clothing gone, he twists his wrists - empty-handed - forwards and ducks his head in light submission, ready for the next command. His chest heaves lightly over the recycled air, his skin tickled by the cold and reacting in spite of it. 

Hux orders him to the bed. On all fours. Face down, ass up.

It is one of Kylo’s favourite positions to adopt.

Settling into place, he sighs in bliss at the feel of leather gloves along his spine. Arching like the pet he is, murmuring his pleasure and satisfaction. The finger that pushes inside is a little hard to handle, but he bears down on it with all his core strength, taking it in by degrees.

Hux would never fuck him dry, but he’ll sure as hell finger him. 

When the finger goes in next, it’s wet. Kylo smiles and rocks obediently, taking the stretch as it’s given. Fingers are no match for real fucking, but they’re a good start. He’s purring non-stop when the next nudge to his hole is anything but organic.

Confused, he turns to see only the movement of Hux’s upper arms as something solid and flared causes a shock of almost-fear up his spine. It is too much, too much, and then the pressure’s all inside and his hole clutches around it, convulsively.

Plugged. Right? That’s what that is. Keeping him spread, but also unavailable. He flexes around the toy, wondering what that means. 

Which is when something tight - like a condom but firmer - slides over his cockhead and down his shaft, the pressure like a really hard handjob that doesn’t give way. The ring sits tight, flush to his balls, and he whines in frustration.

No fucking, no jerking? The snug hug makes his blood pound, but uselessly. The plug inside of him jangles when he moves, and he realises there’s a weighted ball inside the soft material, and when his hips rock, he feels it tugged back to the middle by gravity.

Oh. _Oh_. Kylo squirms and wriggles, flexing his thighs and ass and rolling forwards to try find some resistance for his prick, frustrated when it doesn’t do much but make his balls ache more.

“Sir?”  


“I have work to do. I had to make sure you wouldn’t distract me.”  


Kylo whines, and drops his head into the bed in protest. He hears Hux pace away, and looks over for permission. He sees the lightest toss of his head, and Kylo slithers to the ground to crawl on hands and knees behind him.

The ball inside him rolls, and his prick bobs with each half-pace, but that’s all the stimulation he gets. The Knight tucks his knees below him, sitting ass-down on his haunches (and maybe grinding the base of the plug for a little more stimulation), waiting for orders. He kneels between Hux’s thighs, mouth ready and in place should he want it, eyes up and longing.

Hux doesn’t take advantage. He doesn’t even play with Kylo’s hair, leaving him hard and hungry between his legs. Kylo can smell his musk just out of reach, and he wants to complain, but he’s supposed to be a _good_ boy. 

Maybe he nudges just once with his nose, to see if it’s… nope. The hand yanking him back by his locks, and the warning growl over the datapad say it was a step too far. Still, it’s _attention_ , and he licks his lips and mrrs in pleasure at the sting of it.

“Please?” he asks.  


“You may hold it, but no more,” Hux agrees.   


He unzips his fly, fishing out his half-hard cock. Kylo licks his lips in anticipation, then parts them and allows Hux to rest it on his tongue. His mouth closes and he drifts in delight at the knowledge of their closeness. 

Hux’s cock fills slowly in his warm mouth, the lack of friction meaning it doesn’t happen too quickly to spoil this. Kylo does his best to stay statue-still as he warms his prick for him, breathing through his nose and enjoying the scent and taste. His hands clasp behind his back, and he doesn’t reach down to the plug, though he wants to. Doesn’t try to grind it deeper, or to rub his own, bound prick into anything. _Even though he wants to_.

He’s getting better behaved.

Eventually, Hux’s hips twitch slightly, his prick so full he can’t stay still. Kylo hums in bliss, and then there’s fingers pinching his ears and he’s rammed over and over, lips and tongue and throat protesting the rough treatment. Hux abuses his face like it belongs to him (it does), and Kylo just takes every. Single. Thrust. 

Down, and down, and down and his eyes sting and his heart thuds. His cock is so hard in sympathy, and he feels the waves of pleasure in the Force. The bright, fierce spark of Hux expanding to fill the room, and he knows his climax is due the minute before it arrives. His throat relaxes just in time, and the salty sting of it fills his mouth and he gulps it down with pride. Swallowing over and over, keeping that cock buried happily in his mouth as he finishes slurping the mess away.

Hux continues to work. Kylo drifts for a while.

***

Once he’s done enough, Hux taps the couch for Kylo to climb up. The Knight lets his cock slip out, and watches as it’s tucked away. He lies with his head propped up at the edge of the couch, pillows lifting his shoulders up, with his torso across Hux’s lap.

He puts a holo on, but Kylo isn’t watching it. It’s just background noise as Hux teases over his torso with one hand: pinching his nipples, scratching the skin to pink, stroking blissful sensations that spread like an explosion.

His other hand finds Kylo’s cock, stroking from root to tip, despite the ring. Kylo has no idea what holo is even on, too lost in the rub of thumb around in circles on his slit, or the pinch at the throbbing vein, or the fingers dancing over his balls. 

Under Hux’s hands, he’s a melted puddle of bliss, and he keeps his moans as low as he can, trying not to rut into his palm, trying to behave. 

Hux doesn’t scold him, and Kylo feels the gratitude build higher than any pre-climax sensation can feel. He grinds his hips down into the couch, and begs for release when Hux presses on his prostate from the outside. 

He begs. Hux does not relent.

***

On hands and knees again, as Hux pulls his belt from his pants. The buckle in his palm, the tongue of leather slicing gifts of pain into his ass and thighs. The blows that hit the plug ratchet his arousal higher, and Kylo keens and prays and offers up his very core for Hux. 

Offers up everything he has, everything he is.

The pain doesn’t stop until it’s not pain at all any more, and the sharp bites are mere licks of explosive sensation. Kylo claws at the bed, panting and shaking, taking it all.

When Hux drops the belt and pulls his cheeks wide, the throb of his pulse under those palms is torture most exquisite. He gasps as the plug is bitten hold of, tugged out, and replaced with a tongue that laves him deeply. 

The next climax he takes inside is in his welcoming hole. Hux’s hands drag his hips back, impaling him over and over as his lover uses him like a plaything. It’s so good he nearly faints, and the load left inside is plugged in deep with a toy that could never be as good as the real thing.

He’s not sure how long he’s been hard, now. He’s not sure how much longer he can stay sensible enough to even follow commands.

***

In bed, hours since Hux got home, Kylo is a trembling wreck. He clings to Hux’s side, his mind utterly gone as he begs for kisses and affection. He’s petted and stroked and kissed, his abused hole slapped, and he wails with no sense of decorum or restraint whatsoever.

The hand on his dick is almost irrelevant. His arousal is body-wide, and every little flicker of affection makes him so hard he can’t hear himself think.

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” Hux asks, tapping at his bound-up prick: a gift, with no recipient.   


“I don’t know, Sir,” he replies, in all honesty. He doesn’t know. But he _hopes_ he’s earned it.  


“Do you think I should let you come?”  


He doesn’t _know_. It’s not his place to second-guess, and the confusion wrinkles his face at the tension deep below.

“Whatever you want, Sir.”  


The hand around his throat makes his chest tight, and he doesn’t fight at all under the obstruction to his airflow. He smiles in utter satisfaction, and he doesn’t even know the ring’s come off until the splashes hit his chest. 

Good. So good. So good.

Hux gathers them all, and pushes fingers into Kylo’s mouth. He sucks them clean, thanking him over and over. He doesn’t even realise the words aren’t spoken (impossible, around those fingers), but he knows Hux hears them, all the same.


End file.
